


Your daily dose of incorrect quotes

by Colaris



Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Incorrect Quotes, Multi, funny stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris
Summary: Who doesn't love incorrect quotes? That's why I'm starting a little challenge for the next seven days or even more - we will see. Every day I will write a little story about one incorrect quote and share it with you. If you have a wish for this small project, feel free to share it with me!
Relationships: Elise Shadowrain & Mikołaj Brakowski, Jonathan Crane & Elise Shadowrain





	1. Incorrect Quote 1 - Jonathan and Mikołaj

**Original incorrect Quote:**

**Mikołaj:** Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

**Jonathan:** Twelve, actually.

**Mikołaj:** Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

**Jonathan:** Yours!

**Mikołaj:** That's right: no one's.

The sun set leisurely on the orange horizon, bathing the impressive skyline of Gotham in a soft red tone. Jonathan stared into the last rays of that very hot summer evening and showed a small smile on his torn lips. He took the cool can of beer in his hand, took a few sips from the alcohol and relaxed at this unique moment. It was suddenly so incredibly quiet around him. The former psychiatrist rubbed his thickening beard and looked curiously beside him. Mikołaj lay completely motionless on the dirty wood table, changing the arm on which his forehead rested every now and then. The brown-haired man was not sure whether the Pole was not just dying of solid alcohol poisoning right now. Jonathan sipped his beer again and finally sighed softly. He couldn't hold back his thoughts any longer. Despite the presumed inability of his self-proclaimed arch enemy to understand simple sentences in this drunken state, the older one began to speak softly in his direction: “You know, Mikołaj, sometimes I really think you're actually not that bad of a guy - at least if you ignore about three-quarters of your toxic personality. In your deepest innermost being, you are probably an extremely sensitive and fragile young man who keeps getting himself into trouble because of a simple lack of orientation. Am I right with this assumption?” The addressee grunted softly, which the brown-haired man interpreted as a kind of confirmation of his risky thesis. The former psychiatrist circled the glittering lettering on the can with his torn thumb. After a while, Mikołaj looked up in confusion, blinked a few times and finally raised his left hand to show the middle finger to the setting sun. Jonathan frowned in pure disbelief. He took another sip of the beer and mumbled angrily: “Can't you act like a normal human being at least once in your life? Is that really too much to ask?” The Pole choked a bit, but successfully kept himself from vomiting. The younger man wrinkled his nose and slurred back: “Calm down, ground meat face. I know, I fucking know. You had another shitty day in your miserable life. The usual: stress, work, complicated relationship with your pissy cunt, seven dead thugs and ..."

Jonathan took a deep breath and growled with a deep voice: "There are already twelve lifeless bodies around us, you useless cretin." The psychopath tried to roll his eyes, but he seemed way to dizzy to actually manage this eye movement. His head slowly found its way back onto his thin arms and lingered there for the next few seconds. For a brief moment, the former psychiatrist thought that the black-haired man had actually fallen asleep again. What a fatal mistake. Mikołaj raised his hand leisurely and stuck his index finger up, muttering loudly: “That's not the point, flat wanker. Listen to good uncle Miki properly now. The guys are dead now, there's nothing we can do about that. The question is staying who is to blame for it anyway. I'm fucking clueless.” The older man snorted softly and shook his head slightly. It was slowly getting dark around them. Jonathan rubbed his tense neck and spat irritably: "I can answer that question for you very easily, you lesser unicellular organism: it was your damn fault!" The black-haired shrugged his shoulders, then lingered in the uncomfortable-looking position. A few minutes of complete silence passed between them. During this time a crow sat on the table and pecked the remains of Mikołaj's salami sandwich from the wood, croaking euphorically at this feast. The psychopath finally looked up again and mumbled hoarsely: “Exactly. N.O.B.O.D.Y.S. fault! I was telling you that asshole.” The former psychiatrist stared in disbelief at the pathetic figure next to him. He gritted his teeth tightly and growled angrily: "If I think it over again, we could talk about increasing the dead body counter to thirteen."


	2. Incorrect Quote 2 - Edward, Elise and Mikołaj

**Original incorrect Quote:**

**Elise:** What if I press the brake and gas at the same time?

**Mikołaj:** The car takes a screenshot.

**Edward:** For the last time, get the fuck out.

“Well, princess, let's start over again, okay? The little car ABC for new drivers. Before you even touch the pedal, first check the control and warning signs next to the speedometer when the car starts. Understand?” The orange-haired nodded excitedly and carefully turned the ignition key. The many indicators on the dashboard lit up immediately, but one by one they disappeared after a few seconds. Only two small symbols remained visible next to the speedometer. Elise frowned, stared confusedly at the glowing display and mumbled questioningly: "Okay, we seem to have two problems, Mr. Nygma." The Riddler groaned depressed and rubbed his aching forehead, cursing softly to himself. He seemed to regret having offered the young woman regular driving lessons. Edward crossed his arms over his chest and replied unusually matter-of-factly: "I clearly have more than two, but that doesn't matter right now. Let's start with the first symbol. The lamp. What do you think that could mean?" The Mistress of Fear was about to reply when an amused voice from the back seat shouted unabashedly: "That's way too easy, faggot. That just means that our little cunt has to find the magic lamp in the car and rub it vigorously. Then, after a good and nice hand job, a white genie appears who fulfils a wish for her.” The tinkerer turned his head to the back seat and stared at Mikołaj with devastation. He replied harshly: “Pregnancy is not a damned wish, you protozoan.” With this comment he turned back to the inexperienced driver beside him and grumbled angrily: “Just ignore this brain-amputated imbecile in the back. Simple explanation: this is an indicator for the oil pressure. Normally you should check this now, but my dashboard has been a bit flawed since the last brilliant customization of my talented hands. I should ... Hey, what the fuck are you doing, you idiot?!”

Mikołaj had leaned forward during Edward's boring explanations and fumbled with the old radio without being asked. Not a second later, the song 'Call on me' boomed from the cracking loudspeakers of the car. Everyone present lapsed into a kind of paralysed shock for a moment, till the Pole began to laugh cautiously at first. Elise looked questioningly at her driving instructor, who was visibly red and hastily tried to turn the volume down. Edward's cheeks blushed more and more as he turned the dial the wrong way. Somehow the electronics could no longer be operated properly. Finally the Riddler gave up after a few attempts, cleared his throat a few times and spoke against the loud dance song: "It's still allowed to have my own taste in music, yes? Don't judge me." Elise could no longer suppress a laugh herself. She raised her eyebrows playfully and replied, almost sarcastically: “You really don't have to be ashamed of anything, Mr. Nygma. It's your car after all.” The addressee snorted at the laughter around him. So he was thanked for his helpfulness. Meanwhile, Mikołaj pulled out his smartphone and began to capture this moment for eternity. He asked, clearly amused: “Right, faggot. In the music video you were just staring at the man's ass, right?” The tinkerer ignored the obvious provocation and tapped the second symbol next to the speedometer. Elise scratched her chin lightly, then began to speak hesitantly: "Somehow that looks like it has something to do with water." The Pole behind her suddenly giggled evilly. He explained extremely dry: "That means that you can now drive the car directly into the Gotham River, bitch, because from now on we can even dive with it." The Riddler stared in disbelief at the gaunt man in the back seat. Mikołaj stuck his tongue out and continued to film this unique moment. Edward groaned in exasperation: "If you say another wrong word, you can walk alongside while we're driving. On a rope. Barefoot. And I swear to you, we won't slow down if you can't run any more. And now to you, Elise. Yes, it actually has something to do with water. This is about the coolant. But you can safely ignore the display. I checked that on the way there and everything is fine.” The orange-haired woman shrugged her shoulders slightly, then seemed to think for a while. The catchy song finally came to an end, but a new one started right away on the tinkerer's playlist. The Riddler was just about to say something when Mikołaj began to sing out loud: “I don't care! I love it!”

The Mistress of Fear smiled slightly at this action and asked curiously: "One more question, Mr. Nygma. What actually happens if I press the gas pedal and the brake at the same time while driving?" As so often, the Pole spoke before the tinkerer:" What do you think will happen then, cunt? You take an awesome screenshot with the car. We can absolutely try it on the main street.” This was clearly going too far for the inventor. Edward took out his loaded pistol, swung his chest around and yelled angrily at the black-haired man: "For the last time, Mikołaj! Get the fuck out, you freak!"


	3. Incorrect Quote 3 - Elise, Jonathan and Mikołaj

**Original incorrect Quote:**

**Jonathan:** Mikołaj, get out of the tank!

**Mikołaj:** You're not my dad, Crane.

**Jonathan:** Yes, luckily I'm not, because you imbecile killed your dad. Now get out of the tank!

**Mikołaj:** For your information, fucker: I'm in a tank and you not!

**Jonathan:** Do I need to repeat myself? Get out of the tank!

**Mikołaj:** Crane, I'm literally in a tank, kurwa!

**Jonathan:** For the last time, Mikołaj: get out of the fucking tank!

**Mikołaj:** No!

Elise had to hold back a laugh and felt the first tears of laughter gathering in the corner of her eye. This whole situation was incredibly funny to watch. The young woman shook her head slightly and started to record a video with her smartphone. She tried hard to catch every important detail of this absolute crazy moment. Jonathan was standing almost furious in front of an old tank, which had been a rare exhibit in Gotham for a few days in front of the old town hall and was about to lose his temper slowly. The former psychiatrist looked around, becoming more nervous with every second, and finally shouted angrily: “Mikołaj, get out of the tank! All three of us are wanted by the police and even if it's night they'll patrol here sooner or later.” The Pole poked his head out of the rusted hatch and cheekily showed Scarecrow his middle finger. To the surprise of those present, he suddenly wore a discarded, dark green military helmet, which he had probably found somewhere inside the tank. The black-haired replied boldly: “You're not my dad, Crane! I will not listen to any of your orders!” With these words, the psychopath's head disappeared back into the old vehicle. The brown-haired man took a deep breath and angrily pounded his fist on the green metal. He was about to explode. Elise bit her lower lip harder. Laughing out loud now would probably only make her mentor more angry and let the situation escalate entirely. The former psychiatrist yelled loudly into the night again: “Yes, luckily I'm not, because you imbecile killed your dad. Now get out of the tank!”A few seconds passed before Mikołaj stuck his head out of the vehicle again. This time, however, he shamelessly threw an empty bottle of vodka at the older man's feet and replied unusually matter-of-factly: "For your information, fucker: I'm in a tank and you not!" Elise couldn't deny the fact that this was a really good argument right now. This video would undoubtedly land on Roguebook and probably cause a lot of amusement among the other villains.

The blunt statement of the Pole, however, visibly was the last straw for the brown-haired man. Jonathan cracked his fingers threateningly, pointed his index finger at the psychopath and yelled aggressively at him: “Do I need to repeat myself? Get out of the tank!” The black-haired man shook his head vehemently. He briefly disappeared back into the military vehicle and somehow seemed to get the machine to run. The headlights on the tank began to shine through the darkness. Mikołaj's face reappeared, showing a proud and smug grin. He answered teasingly: "Crane, I'm literally in a tank, kurwa!" Again the psychopath's head disappeared back into the rusty machine. Scarecrow kicked the heavy chains of the armour with his good leg, inwardly boiling in hate. Apparently, the former psychiatrist no longer wanted to accept this permanent provocation. Jonathan changed his previously level-headed tone in his normally calm voice and this time ordered angrily: "For the last time, Mikołaj: get out of the fucking tank!" "No!", shouted the amused-sounding voice of the Pole in a very short reply. Before the brown-haired man could even begin to answer, the old vehicle suddenly rattled loudly, a torrent of black smoke escaped from the machine. The smell of stale gasoline was gradually spreading. As if to confirm, the tank's tracks began to stir and the vehicle began to move slowly in the direction of the town hall. Mikołaj stuck his head out of the hatch again to get an overview of the area, obviously enjoying his little adventure. He shouted into the night: "This is for Warsaw, you suckers!" At that moment Elise finished the recording and got ready to help her mentor to prevent a disaster.


	4. Incorrect Quote 4 - Elise, Jonathan and Mikołaj

**Original incorrect Quote:**

**Jonathan, reading news on his laptop:** Madman attacks defenceless squid in the Gotham City Marine Aquarium.

**Elise:** Who the fuck could be so stupid to fight against a defenceless squid?

**Mikołaj, walking in covered with ink:** Well, maybe the fucking squid was being a dick and needed a fucking lesson!

It was a well known fact that there were absolutely no normal days in Gotham City. Even if you hid yourself as a decent super villain in the cosy walls of your secret headquarters and waited for the vengeance you deserved against humanity, something outside would be happening anyway. Jonathan sat at his bulky desk, desperately struggling with the ancient computer mouse in his right hand. It was no big secret that the former psychiatrist was at war with all electronics surrounding him. The older one scratched the back of his head and sighed softly, finally operating the laptop with the touchpad. Basically, he only used this device to read the news, as newspapers were slowly but surely becoming extinct. In addition, it was immensely helpful to be up to date immediately and not to be informed as late as the next day about what the crazy clown face had done again. Scarecrow hummed a low tune earworm as he scoured the latest articles with interest. In addition to a number of political debates, there was also a more than dubious 'report' about suspected fraudsters at a major bank. Without any evidence, several bankers were put under suspicion and the comments under the journalistic 'masterpiece' literally tore their mouths apart as to which of the accused was the worst of all criminals in Gotham. Strangely enough, the name Oswald Cobbelpot never appeared in these sort of articles. Presumably the Penguin paid the reporters enough to be left alone by them. "Ah, it's always nice to see when you're actually busy with the laptop, Mr. Crane." The addressed fixed the young woman in the door frame.

Elise smiled contentedly and took a sip from her pumpkin shaped cup. It smelled suspiciously of coffee. After a while, the orange-haired woman strolled towards the grey sofa in the study and sat down on it. The older one shrugged his bony shoulders and replied calmly: “I will hardly be able to prevent technical progress, my child. So I'm forced to adapt.” The Mistress of Fear rolled her eyes about this overdramatic comment and sipped again from the black liquid. Jonathan turned his full attention back to the laptop, then frowned in confusion as he read the next report. He cleared his throat and began to read the article's headline aloud: "Madman attacks defenceless squid in the Gotham City Marine Aquarium." An uncomfortable silence fell over those in the room. Sometimes it took intelligent brains more time to process utter nonsense. After a while, the young woman looked visibly confused at her mentor, who just raised his hands helplessly and was at least as flabbergasted as she was. Finally Elise replied in pure disbelief: "Who the fuck could be so stupid to fight against a defenceless squid?" Before the former psychiatrist could answer his assistant, there was the unpleasant sound of a door bursting. Someone had literally kicked down the door of the hiding place. Both those present winced heavily and stared in horror at the door frame, expecting either Batman or the GCPD to rush into the hideout. Not a second later, Mikołaj suddenly stumbled into the study, his body covered from top to bottom in black ink. The Pole wiped his dark forehead with his also messy hand and swore indignantly: "Well, maybe the fucking squid was being a dick and needed a fucking lesson!”


	5. Incorrect Quote 5 - Elise and Selina

**Original incorrect Quote:**

**Elise:** Mrs. Kyle, can you help me a bit, please?

**Selina:** What is it about, my love?

**Elise:** I'm still trying to figure out Doctor Crane's age. Mr. Nygma gave me the solution in form of a 'simple' binary code that I have to convert into some other counting system, but my solution always results in the number thirteen.

**Selina:** Oh honey, don't struggle any more. Our good professor is 44 years old.

**Elise:** What? Forty four? How the hell do you know that, Mrs. Kyle?

**Selina:** I'm a cat, honey. In principle, I know everything.

**Elise:** Wait - does that mean that Jervis is forty-four years old too? He always said he was the same age as Mr. Crane when I asked him. That's not really possible, is it?

**Selina:** I have to revoke my previous statement: I probably don't know everything either, my dear.

It was really making her crazy. Elise groaned depressed, kept tapping the already smeared paper with the pen tip and pulling her tousled hair. She had been working on this almost unsolvable puzzle for over three hours now. The orange-haired woman took a sip of the now cold tea and leaned back a little. Her brain badly needed a moment to pause thinking. After a while she got up from the chair and stretched extensively, then took a few steps up and down her small room. Maybe a little walk in the city park would be good for her scratched sanity. Before the young woman could make a decision, her half-closed laptop rang out softly. Somebody had probably written to her. The Mistress of Fear tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sat down at the desk again, finally pushing the screen into a visible position. She briefly studied the messages and found, among other things, the picture of Selina on her sidebar. Elise pressed the long chat with the thief and read what the black-haired woman had sent some seconds ago: “What's going on, my dearest? You haven't answer me for over two hours now, I'm not used to that. Everything alright?” The young woman grimaced slightly. She must have focused a little too much on solving the damn riddle. The orange-haired woman rubbed her chin lightly and thought for a moment. Perhaps the older one could actually help her in this case. Selina was one of the most intelligent personalities in Gotham City and had impressively demonstrated this several times, which in particular had often driven a certain tinkerer to white heat. Edward cursed the astute cat regularly, but in his case the line between admiration and dislike was almost fluid. In the end the entire underground was in agreement about the strange relationship between the two villains: if they ignored one or the other attempted murder between them, a clear affection could be felt, which sometimes even had romantic traits. Still, both Edward and Selina refused to reveal more about their weird relationship. Elise rubbed her itchy nose and slowly typed an answer to the thief: "Mrs. Kyle, can you help me a bit, please?"

The Mistress of Fear nibbled at her long fingernails, eagerly awaiting a reply. Fortunately, this was not long in coming: “What is it about, my love?” The orange-haired woman sipped her tea again. The Riddler would probably get mad about her behaviour now, but she needed answers. The young woman briefly circled the keyboard with her fingers and finally formulated her request: “I'm still trying to figure out Doctor Crane's age. Mr. Nygma gave me the solution in form of a 'simple' binary code that I have to convert into some other counting system, but my solution always results in the number thirteen.” The description was followed by a parade of laughing smileys. Perfect. Selina seemed wonderfully amused by her dilemma. The Mistress of Fear grumbled annoyed and crossed her arms pouted over her chest. Another sound indicated another message from the Cat: “Oh honey, don't struggle any more. Our good professor is forty-four years old.” Elise jaw literally dropped to the floor. Why had she worked so hard the last few months when the black-haired woman presented her the answer as if on a silver platter? The young woman hurriedly wrote back: “What? Forty four? How the hell do you know that, Mrs. Kyle?” This time the thief took more time to reply. However, it wasn't particularly revealing either: “I'm a cat, honey. In principle, I know everything." That made sense in some crazy way. The orange-haired was just about to accept this fact when another insight was formally revealed in her. If her jaw hadn't already been on the ground, it would have fallen down even more now. Elise hesitantly wrote: “Wait - does that mean that Jervis is forty-four years old too? He always said he was the same age as Mr. Crane when I asked him. That's not really possible, is it?” The Mad Hatter looked like he was in his late twenties. At most. This comment was followed by a very long and unpleasant pause between the women. The next message revealed that Jervis was possibly an even bigger mystery than Jonathan: "I have to revoke my previous statement: I probably don't know everything either, my dear."


	6. Incorrect Quote 6 - Elsie and Jonathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really have to apologize for the missing quote yesterday. I had a pretty busy and exhausting day. Still, here is number 6.

**Original incorrect Quote:**

**Elise:** I can explain.

**Jonathan:** Can you?

**Elise:** If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

Elise rubbed her arms constantly, which were getting colder by every minute in the never ending rain, and stared at the outline of the dilapidated apartment building. She looked a little frightened at the crumbling facade. All the windows were dark that night. The orange-haired woman glanced at her watch and then yawned heartily. It was just after three in the morning. The chance that anyone else in the apartments was awake enough to notice her very late return seemed to be almost zero. The young woman stretched slightly and looked for the key in her jacket pocket, found it after a brief rummage between the battered cell phone and a half-full pack of chewing gum. She opened the rusty front door and finally slipped out of the rain into the dry and warmth. All of her bones ached. Elise grumbled angrily. She had actually been persuaded by Selina to come along on a thief tour and, after eight hours of constant contortion, wondered why she had accepted this physical overexertion in the first place. She really should have known better. To make matters worse, during the escape from the National Museum in the centre of the city, she was also stuck in the ventilation shaft - of course, exactly when the security service was hot on their heels. The Mistress of Fear blushed slightly. In the end, Selina had pressed her in with all her power and thus secured her escape. This whole action had left a lot of traces on her. The pants were completely worn at the knees and there were also some tears in her clothes from a very wild night.

The next morning would probably reveal a series of bruises. Elise slowly climbed the stairs, obviously trying not to make too loud noises. She looked at the next step and grabbed the rickety banister, then hopped over the ramshackle wood. It was precisely this part of the stairs that could practically wake corpses from their eternal sleep. The orange-haired woman went up to the third floor and carefully opened the door, peering cautiously into the dark hallway. Everything was calm. Elise sighed in relief and entered the dark apartment, moving on tiptoe down the corridor. Now it was important not to wake the sleeping dog in his hut. Scarecrow had urged her to be back around midnight. The Mistress of Fear winced at the thought and pulled the soaking wet hood from her tousled hair. She had also deliberately concealed from her mentor that she had planned a break-in with Selina and would not, as discussed, watch a movie at Harley's place together with Pamela. The orange-haired woman crept on down the hall, looked sceptically at the door to the older man's study. There was no light in this one either. A good sign. Elise finally opened the door to her own room and was about to relax when suddenly the light from the bedside lamp shone. The young woman was startled and stared into the frozen face of her mentor.

Jonathan sat in his grey pyjamas on the office chair that was usually at her desk. In his hand he was holding a white mug that read 'Dad # 1' in big letters. The former psychiatrist sipped his tea and muttered calmly: “Elise. Nice that you were able to arrange to come home after all. Judging by your ruined clothes, you weren't at Harleen's place, am I right?” The addressed suddenly looked like a frightened deer. She stammered hastily: "I can explain all of this, Mr. Crane." The older one raised an eyebrow in pure disbelief. After a while he crossed his legs and replied coolly: “Can you? Well, you have my attention.” The Mistress of Fear shrugged her shoulders slightly, her insecurity reflected on her face. Reluctantly, she replied: "If you give me thirty seconds to make up an appropriate lie, you will definitely get your answer, Mr. Crane." This was probably the most inappropriate explanation she could have chosen. The former psychiatrist almost stared a hole in her soul and mumbled softly: "You're an absolute hopeless case, Elise."


End file.
